


How I Hate Going Out In the Storm

by gearyoak



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Introspection, M/M, McGenji Secret Santa, sum cuddlin'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 20:00:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9010039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gearyoak/pseuds/gearyoak
Summary: Years passed and things have changed. Others, they remain.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm captain secret santa for [alfheimr](http://alfheimr.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Their prompts were "quiet introspection on a holiday night together, really bad sweaters, just...sleeping.... let them rest". Hope this is good!

When Doctor Ziegler introduced the cyborg to them, Winston was adamant to keep an open mind. He figured he might as well, seeing as none of the other agents would. Everyone had their doubts, and why wouldn’t they? The Shimadas had been a thorn in Overwatch’s side for so long, and to have one join their ranks so easily? Because they _promised_ to help them? No, the senior agents were not pleased, but in the years they have been faced with the Shimada Clan, this was the closest they’d come to progress. In comparison, a year was not long to wait for something to finally get done. With his new body built and rehabilitation started, Genji was the embodiment of change for Overwatch. No one was prepared for the _kind_ of change, though.

Once he was cleared from the medbay, the entire Swiss base seemed to shift in mood. Half of the operatives acted like HQ had become haunted, and Genji never gave them a reason to think otherwise. He practiced isolation, never remaining in one room for too long, no attempts of familiarity made. The other half of the operatives, however, tended to be greener and more naïve. They approached him on sight, but only ever once. Whatever Genji said to them upon first meeting was enough to never entice a second. More agents came, however, and Genji Shimada was one of the more popular Overwatch oddities.

Winston had to give it to him, he did help them in ops – some not even pertaining to the Shimadas at all. At the time, Winston himself didn’t go out in the field much, but he did keep up on mission reports, and any one that featured the cyborg in it tended to be sour in tone. Genji was not, apparently, a team player. He snuck around his teammates and only seemed to appear when they desperately needed him to. Other than that, he was elsewhere, dealing with enemy squads that _should_ have been dealt with by more than one agent. The mission was always successful, so nothing extreme was done. He would get a stern talking to from the Strike Commander and then be sent on his way.

Genji was difficult, to say the least, and in all sorts of ways. Winston noticed he was difficult to read, first, when he tried to greet Genji. The expressionless visor made it hard to tell what he was thinking. His motionless stance, the line of his tense shoulders, his silence, the way his arms were crossed tightly over his chest – all of it made Winston a tad nervous. And when he’s nervous, he tended to ramble. Barely a minute after he told Genji his name, he found himself having a one-sided conversation about the patterns of stars. That’s when he cleared his throat; tried again. Immediately, he failed on the second attempt. Winston made the mistake of mentioning the cybernetics, commenting on the functionality. The Shimada tensed even further, found an out and escaped the conversation.

Winston didn’t speak to him extensively after that, not for a long time. They passed each other in the corridors, and Winston nodded, said hello. Genji copied him, albeit curtly. He couldn’t ask for much more.

It didn’t start being a problem until his rashness and temperament happened to occur off mission. By then, he already had McCree.

With things picking up in the Shimada Clan Op, Commander Reyes had been summoned to the Swiss base, as he so often did when something seemed to be troubling the Strike Commander. News of it reached Winston quickly. Reyes had that impression on people and held an even more impressive reputation: Mostly respected, partially feared, all around a revered soldier. He was infamous, nothing cut and clean like Morrison. Some of the younger agents believed he was a madman, and that Blackwatch was only created to keep him sated. _Here’s your kingdom of monsters, Reyes,_ Jack Morrison had said, _keep quiet, leave me alone._

All of it were mere rumors, but no one would believe Winston if he told them so. It had to be why, when Jesse McCree appeared alongside his commander, Genji stuck close to him. There was no golden white to McCree; only solid black and orange. Colors that translated to a red, blaring alert to everyone who didn’t wear them. He was a former criminal that was too realistic for the agents of Overwatch, who believed in hope and change for the greater good. McCree had always been quiet, and when the Swiss Base didn’t hide its aversion, he was content in keeping himself company. That behavior had to be what drew Genji in, Winston was sure of it.

He still doesn’t know how it happened exactly, as Doctor Ziegler was not the only one who kept herself busy in her lab. One week, McCree had arrived and Winston had politely greeted him, but did not linger. Another week, he spotted McCree and Genji together in the corner of the mess hall. Genji was the only reason it caught his eye; Winston had never seen the cyborg in the canteen before. From what help he provided Ziegler and Torbjörn with his reconstruction, he knew that it was still necessary for Genji to eat and drink, but he had always done so in private to avoid taking the visor off.

His face was still hidden, but from where he was standing, Winston could plainly see that he was talking to McCree, was comfortable while he did it. Even Ziegler couldn’t manage something like that. It struck Winston, and he was always reminded of it when he saw them together again – and then again after that. To the scientist, they stopped being McCree and Genji and became McCree and Genji.

If he had not been delivering a borrowed data pad to Ziegler, Winston might have never put together what happened to them.

The door to the doctor’s office slid open, and the voice he had heard outside continued to speak before he could announce himself. “All I am asking is that you _talk_ to him rather than encourage this behavior,” Ziegler snapped, which was what made Winston freeze at the start. He had only ever heard the doctor speak in calming and soft tones previously, at least to him. Whatever was being discussed had obviously tried her impressive patience. Winston was too shocked by it to even debate on leaving his meeting for a better time.

“I ain’t his guidance counselor.” McCree was calmer than Ziegler, but only barely. “’Sides, he’s allowed to be pissed off – least for a little while. If he wants t’be mad, ain’t nothin’ we can do ‘till he don’t want to be mad anymore.”

Standing idle for too long caused the sliding door to hiss shut behind Winston with a click, and Ziegler’s head snapped to the noise. McCree never took his eyes off her. Winston cleared his throat, nearly forgetting the data pad in his hand as he went to adjust his glasses. With it now too close to his face, he waved it in way of explanation.

“Just stopping by to drop this off. Sorry if I, uh, interrupted something.”

Ziegler opened her mouth to speak, but only got out a single syllable before McCree cut her off. “No need for any o’that,” he told Winston, and then directed to Ziegler he added, “S’pro’ly for the best the somethin’ was interrupted.”

She regarded him with a cool look, an eyebrow raised. “Perhaps.”

McCree tipped his hat, and left the office. Winston had not seen him for years after that. Curiously, following his and Doctor Ziegler’s confrontation, he was no longer stationed at the Swiss base. Sent to wherever Blackwatch agents go. Genji did not stay long after that. Even more recluse than before, his entire focus was set to his mission on the Shimada Clan. As the empire crumbled, so did Genji’s ties to Overwatch. Winston was not able to say goodbye to him, either, but he never forgot how angry he had been in his last days at the base. He was never found in the mess hall again, and he was rarely seen sulking around the corridors. The mission reports began to sound more like fiction, the writings offering tales of a brutal swordsman with a dragon at his back, cutting down clansmen. He no longer nodded at Winston when they passed each other in the halls. Then, he was gone, and at the time the scientist was almost glad to see him go.

He couldn’t imagine thinking that of the man Genji was now, especially in the position he was in presently.

Winston was the last agent to leave the rec room. He had waited for the remaining person to get uncomfortable in the silence and leave so he could turn off the lights. He knew no one else would have done it. The party had been held in the mess hall, so it hadn’t taken long for everyone to disperse back to where the food was held. It was Lució who had practically demanded that everyone pile into the room so they could complete their Secret Santa in front of the Christmas Tree. He had refused to acknowledge the lesser, plastic table-top trees that adorned each table in the hall, and as the head spokesperson of the Secret Santa Program, no one was inclined to argue. They followed him with their paper plates and presents and found a spot, even if it was on the floor.

That was nearly two hours ago, and McCree had fallen asleep since then. Genji seemingly followed suit, powerless to do anything else. McCree was on his stomach between Genji’s legs, his arms wrapped around his waist, effectively trapping him as a glorified body pillow. The cyborg didn’t seem to mind, even if the arm of the couch _was_ digging into the small of his back. The cowboy hat had fallen to the floor, pushed aside so Genji could thread his fingers through the man’s hair. He ended up with his palm pressed to the back of McCree’s head, holding him close. Winston sighed at the sight; fond. Yes, these men were different than the people he had known, but even so one thing didn’t change.

Before, Jesse McCree and Genji Shimada were tired men; tired of fighting, tired of losing, tired of watching the world burn around them. Fortunately, they had always found solace in each other, and still they do.

Winston padded over quietly, picking up the forgotten hat and setting it gently on McCree’s back. Never one for stealth, it was a slow walk to the door to avoid making noise with his loud steps. The door glided open when the sensor detected his presence. Winston dimmed the overhead fluorescents until the only thing lighting the room was the glow of the massive Christmas Tree.

“Goodnight, Genji,” he said softly from the doorway.

Just barely, Winston could see Genji’s visor turn to look at him from over the back of the couch. “Goodnight, Winston,” he answered, voice just as quiet.

The scientist remembered how uncomfortable this man used to make him, how his mere existence unnerved him. Winston grinned broadly, adjusted his glasses, and was glad for the change. “Merry Christmas.”

“Yes,” Genji hummed, letting his head fall back to rest. “To you, as well. Merry Christmas.”

The door shut behind him.

It was the quiet that eventually woke McCree up. He made a displeased noise into the metal of Genji’s stomach and kept his face pressed there for a moment.

“Welcome back,” Genji said to him, sounding amused.

McCree didn’t address it, only asked, “What time is it?”

“Around ten in the evening, I believe.”

“ _Christ_. Don’t I feel forty.”

Genji snickered, pressing his fingertips into the back of McCree’s neck and rubbed at the skin. McCree let out a content sigh. “You sell yourself short, Jesse. You are not over the hill quite yet.”

“Ain’t so short, if you think about it,” McCree remarked. “And I think ‘over the hill’ is fifty, not forty.”

“My mistake,” Genji replied, sounding anything but regretful. He felt McCree shift so he could look up at him, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he was in any pain from the position. He didn’t seem to be, despite the angle his neck took. All his attention was on Genji now. Behind his visor, he smiled to himself. “What do you plan on doing, now that you are awake?”

McCree kept staring at him, not appearing to have heard his question. It was very possible, with how slowly he was blinking and how even his breathing still was. He was seconds away from falling back asleep.

“’M thinkin’ I’m gonna embrace my age, darlin’,” he said eventually. “If you don’t mind.”

Genji shifted down lower in the couch so McCree’s head rested higher on his stomach, bringing him closer, and then looked back to the soft glow of the Christmas Tree. He ignored the ache in his back from the arm of the couch, the crick in his neck, _and_ the fact that he wasn’t tired at all. “No, Jesse. I do not mind.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Crisis!!!


End file.
